genre: M/M Urban Fantasy
length: novella
IBSN# 978-1-59596-950-7
price $3.99
BUY: http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1011

BLURB:

Van’s torn between going back to law school to finish his degree or staying on as a partner in The Fantastic Five. He loves restoring old action figures, and the one he’s working on is special. He finishes the work, wishing the decision before him was as easy as the football games he used to play. When he’s awakened in the middle of the night, instead of the intruder he expected, he finds his action figure has come to life and brought with him a whole new set of complications.

Brice knows the key to Van’s decision lies inside him. All he has to do is follow his heart. But getting a lawyer to trust his emotions is about as easy as making first down on fourth and twenty. It’s a mission Brice will gladly accept. Because once the pass is completed, it’s an easy touchdown.

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Excerpt

Van flexed his biceps and tried to locate the gash he’d gotten in a freak accident when he’d been clipped by another guy’s helmet. Although the scar had faded, it remained as one of the ones he could show off in public. There, along the back of his arm, he found it, though the puckered angry line had softened and faded to nearly white. He went to the couch were Brice lounged and twisted his torso to show him the scars.

Brice reached for him. He trailed his fingers over the wound, sliding them back over the oblique muscle. “Not bad. I have one better.” He tugged at his jersey top, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor. Right along his collarbone ran a faded scar. “Shrapnel.”

Van stared at it, the reality of what Brice and the other guys had done for their country. They’d fought and paid the ultimate sacrifice. Thinking about it that way put his situation in perspective. He might have decisions to make, but it wasn’t a big deal after all.

“Would it be bad if I said that’s all I got?” Van asked. He could find more scars. There was a mark on his thigh were an ice skate had gotten him during a hockey game he’d played back in high school. A couple of mean-looking scars along his shin from a mountain biking accident. A guy didn’t stay as active as he’d been without getting a few marks.

“Chicken?” Brice tugged at the drawstring to his pants.

Van stared at Brice’s broad, nearly hairless chest. Van wondered if it came from being an action figure or whether he was naturally smooth. Either way, it provided the perfect canvas for showcasing his muscles and the treasure trail leading to the waistband of his pants. Van licked his lips. He remembered how good Brice had looked naked, and blood rushed to his cock. His powerful thighs, full balls, and long shaft had begged for a kiss. Van wanted to make good on the unfulfilled promises from his dream.

“Never.” Van flipped open his jeans. He toed off his shoes, then let his jeans and underwear fall to the ground. Stepping out of them, he kicked them out of the way. “Who’s chicken now?” He put a swagger into his hips.

Brice chuckled. He stood and in a single motion, shoved his pants down. He made a show of rolling them over his calves, then stepping out of each pants leg. Then he straightened and folded the pants before setting them on the floor beside him. “So where are your scars?” Unabashedly, he studied every inch of Van’s body from his shoulders, down to his waist, lingering on his hardening cock, then down to his feet. “Because you look pretty good from where I stand.”

Van made a show of thinking. He lifted his foot onto the couch, aware that Brice couldn’t stop looking at his cock. He bent over and ran his fingers over his knee. “I have some nice ones here from surgery.” He turned his leg.

Brice stroked his knee. “Very nice.” His hand paused, before caressing the top of Van’s thigh. “But you know I’m not interested in your scars.” With each word, his fingers crept closer to Van’s cock. “I owe you a blowjob.” Brice enunciated every word, making a show of rounding his lips.

Van groaned. His cock twitched. He straddled Brice on the couch. “Yeah, you do.” With an arm on either side of Brice’s head, he curled his fingers into the back of the couch.

Brice cupped Van’s shaft in his fingers. Just that touch caused a tiny drop of fluid to form at the end of his cock. His balls tightened. Closing his eyes, he drew a ragged breath into his lungs. He tensed his jaw, willing his body to behave. Being touched in a dream was nothing like having Brice in front of him with his lips parted and his fingers stroking the underside of his cock.

“Chicken?” Van taunted. He leaned back, angling his shaft even closer to Brice’s mouth. “You know you want to taste it.”